Alex laughed again, more convincing this time as he said, ‘I take it you’re not a Republican.’
She smiled too and said, ‘Granted, we’re Democrats but Jerry Brook is still lowlife, and I can assure you that if he knows about the accident you were involved in he’d think nothing of eliminating the people who could point to his future wife being involved. This is politics we’re talking about, and trust me, in this country when it comes to politics no measure is too extreme.’
‘This is, of course, if it’s the same Natalie Harrison.’
Martha nodded, an edge of sarcasm as she said, ‘You’re right, I’m sure there are plenty of British futures analysts called Natalie Harrison.’
Alex shrugged, not responding, saying finally, ‘Shall we go and finish our drinks?’
‘Sure.’
They went back through to the lounge but as soon as they sat down again Martha said, ‘I hope you don’t think I’m being paranoid about this Alex, but just as a precaution, I’d recommend you go public in some way. Or leave a deposition with your attorney and let Natalie Harrison know about it. Let Jerry Brook know about it.’
He sighed deeply, just to let her know that he was thinking about it, struggling to get some respite from her needling toward the truth. He took a sip of his whisky then and she did likewise and they sat in silence.
It was the first time he’d encountered someone as paranoid as him and it was throwing his thoughts into confusion. He’d come here thinking Matt had been behind something exactly the same as she was describing. And yet it felt now like the evidence was too circumstantial, and even if it was the same Natalie Harrison he didn’t want to believe that she could have come to this.
He thought of Matt’s note again and understood it because he just wanted to be able to sleep and forget about it, about everything. He didn’t want to consider the possibility that Natalie, or Jerry Brook if he was in fact her boyfriend, might want to have him killed. He wanted to go back to a time before any of this had happened.
The thought made him look up again and at her. He remembered now, the letters, the way she’d talk about what she was doing at school and ask what subjects he was studying. He’d asked her once if she had a boyfriend and received a mortified response that she was too young. A whole correspondence carried out as a footnote to Matt’s letters.
‘I’ve become so unbelievably insensitive,’ he said, the words coming out as he thought them. She frowned a little, a slight knitting of the eyebrows that he’d noticed a couple of times and found endearing. ‘Seriously, this is who I’ve become. You tell me your brother is dead and I haven’t even thought to ask how it’s been for you.’
She shook her head dismissively and said, ‘He did die seven years ago, and this must have been a shock for you.’
‘That’s no excuse, because you even told me in so many words, that it’s been playing on your mind while you’ve been here alone. And I knew how close you and Matt were. It must have been devastating.’
She didn’t answer for a moment, an amazing stillness about her, like a snag in time, and when she spoke again her voice was soft and composed.
‘The strange thing was, at the time it didn’t seem like such a shock, not to any of us. And he’d been so low, I think we were almost relieved for him. But then the funeral came – that’s a long week, waiting for the funeral – and suddenly I couldn’t understand why we were burying him. It was like we’d given up on him. I’d forgotten who he was but I saw that casket, that big, big casket, and it made me remember, how great he’d been, how I’d idolized him, the way I’d cried when he flew to England for the first time, inconsolable.’ She took a sip of her drink but Alex remained silent, sensing that she was only pausing, gathering her thoughts. And it was painful to hear but he owed her this and wanted to hear it too, to be reminded once more who Matt had been. She held the whisky in her mouth for a while before swallowing it and then said, ‘I wanted to fix him in my mind but it was too late, he was already dead. It was like I’d dreamt him. Still now, it’s like I dreamt him. No one was ever that good, or that great a brother, or that great a person.’ Had he been great? Alex couldn’t remember well enough, but he was touched that she thought so and couldn’t help but question his own chances of receiving a eulogy like that.
‘The wrong people die,’ he said, aware that it sounded trite but feeling it true all the same. She produced a politely grateful smile and he added, ‘And you didn’t dream him. He was a better person than I ever was, and I’ve fallen a long way from my best.’